


Stature

by Spoon888



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Height Differences, M/M, Megatron Is An Asshole And That's Also Canon, Shenanigans, Starscream Is Short And It's Canon, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Starscream's sick of being the short one.





	Stature

**Author's Note:**

> A request it took me forever to finish. Sorry!

Starscream often dreamed of a day that wouldn't consist solely of neck strain, of staring at breast plates and listening to mechs speaking _literally_ over his head, of resorting to peaking under their arms to see around their bulk, of never being able to _reach_ anything.

"Why is this shelf so high?!" Starscream demanded, pointing so violently at the object in question it might as well have been on trial for murder.

The power converter that he wasn't even going to _try_ to reach for was plucked off the shelf by Soundwave with pointed ease and offered to him. "The shelving units are set to the standard parameters."

Starscream snatched the part out of his hand without thanking him. "Standard for who? Devastator?"

"Suggestion," Soundwave intoned without a hint of sympathy. "Invest in a footstool."

Starscream would have thrown power converter at his _head_ , but he wouldn't have been able to reach for another one to replace it.

It wasn't just the shelving units. It was the door controls, the chairs that left his legs dangling, the berths he had to _boost_ himself up onto, the control keys he had to drape himself over the keyboards to reach. And it wasn't a height issue, because that would imply it was in anyway his fault.

Being built an only _slightly-below-average_ size for a seeker had never bothered him in Vos, seeing as he was just a head shorter than Thundercracker and Skywarp. It was the _Nemesis_ that was at fault. It's layout and all it's trappings had been designed for these giant lumbering military types with no regard for anyone else. Primus forbid _they_ should have to bend down or stoop, but no one could care less that _he_ had to ignite his thrusters and _hover_ just to reach the fragging shower controls in the wash-racks!

He had lived in silent dignity long enough. It was time the world came down to _his_ level. 

"Have Scrapper refit the lab." He ordered, slapping the request form down on the one day of the year Megatron accepted them -from anyone who dared to actually present them to him.

Megatron didn't move to take the form. "Why? What have you done to it?"

"I've done nothing. Which is precisely the point. It's unsuitable for my uses."

Megatron let out a long low breath, lazily stretching out an arm and dragging the files closer, which included an essay length explanation of why the lab was a priority for the Constructicons over other less important duties -like fixing leaks, or mechs. Starscream had also written up a detailed plan for what he wanted the new lab to look like, including more considerate measurements for things like _shelving units_.

Megatron paused reading it, frown lifting off his face as his brows rose. "This is an identical layout-"

"It's not." Starscream glared.

But Megatron wasn't finished, "-just scaled down."

Megatron raised his gaze. Starscream shifted his footing awkwardly, waiting for the verdict.

"...Have you considered investing in footstool?" Megatron joked.

Starscream snatched the forms out of his big ugly hands, claws catching at his paint in his furious haste. "Fine!" He hissed. "Let it go to waste!"

"Or perhaps a lab assistant!" Megatron called after him, cruel in his amusement, "It's about time you refilled Skyfire's position, isn't it?"

Starscream couldn't slam an automatic door, so instead he punched his fist through the inconveniently high door panel and ripped all the wiring out, initiating the manual lock. Scrapper would be too busy cutting Megatron out of his own office to reconfigure the lab now anyway.

* * *

"Is there a reason you're clogging up my medbay?" Hook asked when he saw a _patient_ (shudder) occupying an examination berth.

"I need work done." Starscream answered, studying his claws.

"Doesn't everyone." Hook muttered, laying down whatever it was he'd been working on (someone's arm by the looks of things) and coming up to him. "Finally decided to fix that grating vocaliser, huh?"

Offence boiled in Starscream's tanks. "No," he growled, voice as irritatingly scratchy as he could make it. "I'm experiencing hip pain and since I know how vastly inexperienced you are when it comes to actual diagnosis, I've determined the source of the problem myself." He lifted his foot. "You'll need to adjust my thrusters."

"Your thrusters?" Hook sounded disbelieving.

"They need to be higher." Starscream sniffed, wriggling his toe pedes.

Hook was silent for a worrying long pause.

"...This wouldn't have anything to do with you wanting to reach the top shelf, would it?"  
  
Starscream slammed his hands down and pushed himself up from the berth with a curse. _Wonderful_ , now they _all_ knew it was a touchy subject.

"Why stop at thrusters?" Hook offered, laughing. "Why not reformat yourself into a shuttle? Or a titan?"

Starscream, again, couldn't slam the medbay door. So he used the same trick he had yesterday, ripping all the wiring out of the control panel and smirking when he heard Hook's indignant ' _hey_!' from the other side as the medic realised what he was doing.

At least Hook had tools in there. He wouldn't be trapped for quite as many hours as Megatron had been.

* * *

It had nothing to do with pride. Simply practicality. Time spent climbing furniture and wandering off in search of something to boost himself up with was time he could have otherwise spent working on something useful, or on devising the Autobots' demise, or plotting a hostile takeover against a certain unworthy leader. It had absolutely nothing to do with a long standing desire to stand optic-to-optic with Megatron, instead of always having to loiter in his shadow, be loomed over every hour of the cycle.

That being said, why should _he_ have to change? Why should _he_ have to make himself taller just to cope with the inconsiderate world _they'd_ built around him? In which case, perhaps he should think about making _them_ shorter? See how _they_ handled it.

Few would consent to that, of course. The easiest way to go about it was probably chopping their legs off at the knees and telling them to make do, but that wouldn't leave them fairing well the next time the Autobots decided to attack. They certainly couldn't retreat very well with compromised leg function...

A less harmful option, that didn't cripple and disfigure his entire faction, was a shrink ray. Not one of those over the top machines a maniac like Shockwave would devise, shrinking beings to atomic size just to see if he could. Just something that would just take a couple meters off, bring them down to his level - or smaller, if they _displeased_ him.

He found himself smirking at the thought of taking Megatron down by a metre every time the older mech stepped out of line. He'd be shrunk into oblivion before the end of the first day. (Leaving Starscream to rule in his place! Oh. This was turning out to be a wonderful idea!)

The only problem was that to build this shrink ray he was going to use to put himself back on top, he needed the equipment of his utterly unsuitable lab.

He had already resigned himself to weeks of working in the hazardous environment, of climbing over tables, wobbling atop stacked stools, and hopping around on his toe pedes. So he stopped, struck, when he turned into the corridor and found the area sealed off with yellow and black hazard tape. He tore it down and stepped through, frowning at the dust littering the floor and bundles of disconnected wires left hanging from the ceiling panels.

He approached the open doorway cautiously, listening to the buzz of tools and banging destruction, peering around the frame to find the entire Constructicon gestalt in the process of haphazardly ripping up the old furnishings.

"What are you doing?!" He yelled, jumping into view and clutching his head, watching all his last-minute plans slip down the drain.

"What you wanted!" Mixmaster yelled, carelessly smacking a shelving unit (the tall one, the bane of Starscream's existence) down with a sledge hammer and sending the splintered chunks tumbling over Scavenger's head. "New lab."

"Not that there's anything wrong with this one." Scrapper muttered resentfully, ripping out a chemical bath and tossing it towards the growing mountain of trash.

Oh, Starscream thought, watching as Bonecrusher removed the lab's door control panel and dropped to his knees so he could mark the section of the bulkhead where it was being relocated. Perhaps he didn't need to build his shrink ray after all.

(He wondered if Megatron had known how close he'd been to becoming a Tic Tac.)

* * *

Megatron was lounging on his stupid throne, undeservingly long legs spread out in front of him. His pre-prepared frown deepened when Starscream appeared in his doorway, and no more happy to be in the same room as Megatron appeared to be, Starscream swirled his tongue around his mouth when the casual, meaningless, half-arsed 'thanks' he'd psyched himself up to saying evaporated from his vocaliser.

How did one even go about being grateful without losing their dignity? How did Autobots do it?!

No, actually - it was far wiser to say nothing at all - lest Megatron get all smug about it. He went it leave.

"I expect you make the effort spent on this new lab of yours worthwhile," Megatron called across the room to him, making tatters of Starscream's plan to pretend none of this needed acknowledging. "Since it is now _useless_ to anyone of average stature who may want it use it."

'Average Stature'- just because Megatron had been raised around those monstrous haulers in the mine... 

"So they'd have to stoop. Who cares?" Starscream sniffed.

Megatron rose, throne creaking as his great weight shifted out of it. Starscream looked to the side and mentally prepared himself as Megatron descended from on high and lumbered towards him. He came to a stop just a bare inch from him, leaving Starscream awkwardly staring at his broad square chest, scowling purple insignia and all.

"Well? What do you have to say?" Megatron prompted from above.

Starscream clenched his teeth together. The grind was audible.

"Ah, my apologies," Megatron said before Starscream could work up the courage to curse his very existence, sounding amused. "I almost forgot."

Starscream watched, horror-struck, as Megatron reached into his subspace and pulled out...

A footstool.

He dropped it on the ground at Starscream's pedes with a flimsy sounding clatter, smug optics never once leaving Starscream's own.

Oh. So he thought he was _funny_ , did he?

After the moment it took Starscream to reign his temper in, he stepped onto it. With the extra few metres it supplied he was almost level with Megatron, optic-to-optic, like he'd always wanted. Megatron was smirking that stupid smug smile and now that they were nose to nose with one another there was nowhere else for Starscream to look but _at_ it.

"Better?" Megatron's engines purred.

Starscream's stiff mouth twisted into a smirk as an idea formed. "Much better," he cooed, softening his glare and leaning closer.

Megatron's amusement transmuted easily into interest, foolishly led by any subtle indication that an encounter could become intimate. His head tipped forwards in likeness.

Starscream titled his head like he was going to let him come in, shuttering his optics softly, like he was every bit the appreciative seeker Megatron seemed to think he was. He waited until Megatron's nose brushed his, lips parted, optics offline - _so trusting_ \- before planting his hand directly in the centre of Megatron's ugly face and shoving him back.

The larger mech stumbled, optics snapping online in shock, giving Starscream's just enough time to hop off the footstool, tuck it under his arm, and make a run for it.

His legs weren't as long as Megatron's, so he definitely needed the head start.


End file.
